Belle of Bellville Ch. 07-08

Her father had a heart attack and he'd been hospitalized and she wasn't there to be by his side! She cupped her mouth with a shaky hand as if to stop that scream that wanted to tear out of her. She pressed her eyes closed as tears rolled down her face when the realization of her father's health situation hit her square in her chest. Her father could have died and she would have never known!

She suddenly heard a rustling sound in the surrounding bushes. Her hand dropped from her mouth and a sense of dread filled her when she realized that someone or something could be lurking in the dark. They could be watching her now.

Feeling suddenly very exposed and vulnerable, she quickly rubbed the tears from her eyes for a clearer vision, and turned around before she hurried into the shed to hide in the darkness. From that vantage point, she could peek out to see who or what it was. Hopefully it wasn't a stray longhorn, or worse! A bear.

When she entered the shed, she was surprised to find that it wasn't dark at all. There was light; a faint light coming from the back of the shed behind the large tractors. Then she became aware of those noises again. Grunts. Breathless gasps. Could someone be injured?

With her state of mind in that mode, she walked toward the sounds, but just when she was about to call out from behind one of the large tractors, she got a peek at exactly what was causing those sounds of pain, and stopped short. Her eyes went round as saucers as her heart skipped a beat because she realized she'd just stumbled onto a very intimate situation.

With a barely audible gasp, she snapped back against the tractor. Her chest was heaving and her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. She had just become a witness to a very intimate coupling between a beautiful dark-haired woman, Elena, who was clinging passionately to a tall...blond...cowboy. And she recognized them both.

Elena was on her back on a bale of hay. The bodice to her dress was completely unbuttoned and her bra had been tugged down to expose her plump breasts. The pale light on her naked breasts illuminated the saliva left around her nipples which told her that they'd been vigorously suckled by the cowboy moving swift and hard over her, savoring each and every almost aggressively deep thrust.

"Ah, madre dios, say something to me, mi gran ranchero!" Elena gasped breathlessly.

Shocked to the core of her soul, Isabella couldn't move. She could barely breathe! Oh god! She'd just walked in on Jacob Barrington making mad passionate love to none other than Elena! She had to get out of there before either one of them saw her!

On soft-soled slippers, she rushed out of the shed without making a sound; no longer concerned that there still might be a wild animal lurking in the bushes outside. She needed to get out of there quickly, and the moment she knew she was safely outside, she threw herself into the fastest run she's ever allowed herself. She raced back to the verandah and then into the laundry room before she quickly shut and locked the door, not seeing the tall hatless "gunslinger" emerge from the shadows with a curious look on his chiseled face as he just caught her hurrying into the house.

Having paced his room for what seemed hours, Jacob finally stopped by the window just in time to see a night nymph dancing in the moonlight. Then he saw it was none other than Isabella because he recognized the nightgown she was wearing which was, to him, the sexiest nightgown he'd ever seen on a woman even though it was designed for elegance rather than enticing a man's sexual appetite. But on Isabella, it was sexy.

She seemed to dance in the moonlight, with one hand up and her long, pitch-black hair dancing around her slender body. He thought he was dreaming when he first caught sight of her, but then he realized that it really was Bella out there and he felt this powerful desire to go to her.

He fought a battle inside him, pacing back and forth in his loft home. It was too early to approach her since he had made the choice to help her get over her fear of men and woo her. She was so damned skittish that he had to approach her slowly. The last thing he wanted was to have her continue to see him as a threat, and the last thing he needed to do was do anything to give her that excuse. He no longer denied he wanted her, but he understood that in order to make her his, he'd have to take it slow.

All of that went right out the window when he saw her below...

**~*~**

Inside the shed, Junior and Elena fought to catch their breaths as they descended from the stratosphere. Their hot, no-strings-attached couplings were always a welcome break after a hard day's work on the ranch, and Elena was always ready and willing. He loved that about her. He also liked to believe she was ready for him only.

"You're the best," Elena purred with a smile.

He lay a moment on top of her, eyes closed, as he fought to catch his breath and was unwilling to pull out her tight hot channel. "I reckon you say that to all us pokes," he chuckled, hearing her giggling above him. He raised his head and smiled upon her pretty face before she began pushing at him.

"You're heavy! Git off me," she said with a charming giggle.

He smiled as he pulled out of her and got off before walking to the washbasin. He wasn't looking forward to the cold water to wash him now, but one glance over at the bale of hay and Elena's naked and spread thighs told him, it was the best thing for him.

He sighed. That woman was going to be the death of him.

She smiled coyly as she pushed herself up and leaned back on elbows. "Yes, but I mean it only with you."

He frowned as he washed his groin and looked over at her. "Mean what only with me?"

"That you're the best." When she saw the jealous look on his face, she laughed softly. "You know you're the only one, mi gran ranchero," she purred.

He gave her sidelong smile. "Yea, sure," he said with a chuckle. "Anyway, we best call it a night. I reckon I'd git to the stables 'fore I hit the hay myself, see if Billy did as I told him and put fresh hay in with Lady. She's near foalin'." He finished adjusting his jeans before he ran his hand back through his blond hair and slipped his cowboy hat on.

"Yea," she said with an exasperated sigh. "I wish your pa hired a real housekeeper," she said with a sigh as she pulled on her panties, missing how he frowned curiously at her. "He's still making me change the sheets in his room although they're never soiled. He makes me change his sheets every day," she said with a cute pout. "When will that Isabella start doin' them?"

"Don't you think you should be helping her?" he asked with a curious smile.

"Hah! No." She scoffed as she went to the washbasin to wash her hands. "I know your pa would like me to, but it ain't gonna happen. And you know what else? He wants me to help with cookin', too!"

"Yea, well, it'd be nice if you'd help her out more, at least until she's feeling better." He chuckled, shaking his head. "She ain't one hundred percent yet and we don't want her fallin' and faintin' cuz we work her too hard, know what I mean?"

"Yea," Elena said with a thoughtful frown. "She's already fainted twice." Then she looked curiously thoughtful. "Or maybe she's fallin' in some trance."

"Trance?" Junior asked with eyebrows up.

She knew Junior didn't believe in witches and hexes, so she merely smiled. "With so many good looking men around, what woman can resist fallin' into a trance?"

He shook his head with a chuckle. "You're not tryin' to say that she's some kind of witch, are you?" He chuckled again. "You're the bruja, Elena. A crazy bruja," he said as he walked toward the wide doors of the shed to head for the stables.

"Si, but you like your bruja loco, don't you?" She batted eyes at him.

He laughed and shook his head.

She didn't like the way that Isabella was getting all the attention—especially with the Barrington men. She damn well knew that although he never mentioned it, her "gran ranchero" had been looking at that Isabella, too. And she didn't like it. Time to up the ante.

"Hey, ranchero?"

Junior stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Yea?"

"I was wonderin'," she began with a flirtatious smile, "would you be jealous if I spent some quality time with James and tutor him in the ways of el amor?"

He frowned, hiding his jealousy. "He's twenty-one, not twelve. I reckon he don't need no tutorin' from anyone anymore."

"Maybe. Maybe not." She shrugged. "He's still lookin' at me in that way, you know?"

"I haven't noticed."

"Yea," she said with a nod. "I don't think he's been with a woman for a long time, ever since that Rena girl."

"You mean, Reece."

"Yea." Then she smiled coyly. "You know how I love to help the young ones out," she said as she let a long golden leg sway off the bale of hay.

"Do I now?"

"Unless," she batted long eyelashes, "you want me to be yours only?"

His handsome face grew just a little harder, but he merely shrugged as he headed toward the exit. Elena was a great woman but she loved to play games. "Like I've said before, Elena, I don't hold any papers on you."

"But how do you feel about it?"

"Do whatever you want." Then he masked his irritation with a smile. "You always do anyhow."

"Cabrón!" she said as he exited the shed, but the moment he had, her smile faded as a look of hurt reflected in her big green eyes.

Outside, Junior's smile faded, not feeling at all good about what he heard. He knew Elena was out for a commitment from him, and he liked her well enough, but he wasn't sure how Pa felt about it. He couldn't deny he wanted her exclusively and although she acted like a flirt, he knew, in his heart, it was just an act. Elena was a sweet gal, and just a little playful. She never meant anyone any harm. As these thoughts lingered in his head, he stopped just outside the door when he realized he'd forgotten to zip up his fly.

"That woman's hotter than a stolen tamale and she's gonna do me in," he whispered to himself as he zipped up his fly. Then he suddenly started when he saw his brawny brother standing just in front of the bushes.

"Jake?" he said, seeing that glare in his younger brother's eyes. "What the hell are ya doin', lurkin' out here—?" That's as far as he got before he heard a growl, saw stars, and all the lights went out for him even before he hit the ground!

**~*~**

Chapter Eight

Tension was so thick in the air in the Barrington kitchen the following morning that Isabella was certain she could cut it with a knife. There was something terribly amiss between the two eldest Barrington brothers, and she appeared to be the only one clueless as to what. Well, she and John Barrington, that is.

Once again she failed to see her plan through to leave Barrington Ranch although there was no excuse for that delay any longer. She had her keys and she had been packing her things, but then she suddenly felt exhausted and was overcome with intense sleep. The emotional shock she suffered having heard about her father's health tore her up inside, and she couldn't deny having seen Jacob with Elena in the shed had affected her adversely, too.

That night, with her resolve to move on, she had allowed herself a break from packing her things and laid herself on the bed thinking about those jarring events, and how she needed to leave Barrington Ranch now more than ever. The next thing she knew, it was morning. Another chance missed!

As she thought about her failure, she quietly poured the coffee as Elena poured the juice. Neither one said a word as they served the four Barrington men their breakfast. Come to think of it, it was unusually silent at the Barrington breakfast table.

She could see, however, that John Jr. was glaring at Jacob from time to time. James seemed to try and make himself invisible in his chair as he quietly had his breakfast, and even the patriarch of the family was unusually quiet as he looked at his two oldest sons from under a darkening frown.

It was also pretty clear that John Jr. and Jacob had brawled. John Jr. had a bruise on his left jaw the size of an orange, and a healing cut on his lip. There weren't any cuts or bruises on Jacob, at least none she could detect, but his knuckles, now cleaned, had been cut and had bled some time ago.

Then she frowned when she saw how Elena would glare at Jacob from time to time. Her expression changed from sympathy to anger when she looked from John Jr. to Jacob. She was clearly upset with the latter and she obviously knew what was going on.

Then she finally put two-and-two together. She realized that the two brothers had gone fist to fist over Elena. She'd seen how Mister John eyed the exotic beauty when he thought no one was looking, and he must've come upon them the evening before—much like she had—and they must've fought about it...and despite being the older brother, Mister John clearly didn't emerge as the winner.

After the quietest breakfast she's ever attended was over, the Barrington men, one by one, got up and left for their work. With them out of the kitchen, Elena lost interest in staying, and she soon disappeared, too, leaving the cleaning up to her. As she cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen, she thought about that uncomfortable morning. It was obvious to her that talking things out in the Barrington home was not the norm. Brooding was.

The Barrington men, including John Barrington himself, were normally men of few words. She surmised that when it came to talking about feelings, they didn't talk at all. Instead, as with most men, they chose to be silent and allow any and all grievances go away all in their lonesome. Problem was, that never happened.

Whatever gripes they might have, if they don't talk them out, these could fester and become a big bitter ball and a feud. Simple disagreements would then become monumental grudges that can escalate into hatred. She knew this better than anyone since her father and her brother were pretty much the same way.

When her mother died, the relationship between Reg and their father became strained to the limit. In the past, it was her mother who kept the peace in their house. She always made Reg go to their father to talk things out, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. Now she was gone, Reg and her father's relationship only seemed to deteriorate. Was there even a relationship anymore? She couldn't be sure.

"So much time wasted," she whispered softly as, later that morning, she pulled the bedsheets out of the washer. Since Elena had gone a.w.o.l., she decided to do the bedsheets herself. She needed something to keep her mind off of her father's health issues, hush her guilt for not being there for him, nurture the hope that Charles really did plan to get married, and...try to ignore how she'd been feeling about Jacob Barrington.

A few moments later, she found herself in the gardens. The warm, early summer breeze made the washed sheets billow as they blew gently on clotheslines. It was mid-morning, and she busied herself with the daily laundry, hoping to get it done by noon. She'd seen that clotheslines had once been strung up but were never used. As long as she was there, and the weather permitted it, she was going to make good use of them.

Although the laundry room was well equipped with an industrial-sized washer and dryer pair, and although it was still quite a walk from there to the clotheslines, she believed it was worth the extra effort. For her, nothing beat washed sheets and bedding blown dry by nature's own.

Dressed in a yellow sleeveless cotton dress and a pink cardigan, she hummed softly as she set clothespins on the freshly washed sheets. She was enjoying this peaceful moment after the tense morning, and the delicate scent of clean laundry always made her worries go away, even if only for a brief half hour or so.

The breeze picked up a little, whipping the black tendrils of hair around her small face. The rest of her hair had been bound in a low tail down her back, and the bunch was heavy enough not to blow all too wildly around her.

Who would've guessed that she, Isabella Beamont-Boucher, child of privilege, young mistress of Boucher Manor, and the product of children of two prominent Louisiana families, would find herself hanging out bedsheets on a cattle ranch in rural Texas?

"How unpredictable life can be," she whispered as she adjusted a damp sheet on the line before she resumed humming her song.

"That song sounds familiar."

She started a little before she turned big blue eyes and looked at James who was standing to her right with a loaded basket of freshly washed sheets and pillowcases. Aside from John Barrington himself, James was by far the kindest, most approachable Barrington.

She smiled. "It was my mother's favorite song."

"It's Pa's favorite song, too." He smiled as he dropped the basket by her feet, and then straightened as he gazed around them and at the billowing sheets. "You just about need a compass to navigate around these sheets."

"I'd have to settle for a map since I've never held a compass, let alone know how to use one," she joined in the joke, making him chuckle.

"I use my smartphone for maps," he chuckled. "Need any help?"

She bent and took up another big damp white sheet, but when she shook it out, he immediately stepped back to avoid flying droplets.

"Oh, I see!" She laughed. "You want to help, but you're afraid of a little water."

He grinned. "Hey, I offered to help hang the sheets, not get wet by 'em."

She shook her head, smiling. "Then you have yourself a dilemma, indeed," she pointed out as she tossed the sheet over an empty stretch of line before she looked at him with a wry smile. "There's no avoiding getting somewhat wet when tending to the laundry. See?" She turned and showed him where dark spots dotted the front of her yellow dress and pink sweater.

"Didn't you notice we have this new-fangled metal box thing that dries clothes and big sheets like this in the laundry room?" he asked as he flicked a corner of a billowing sheet with a fingertip. "It'd get the job done with half the effort."

"Yes, but will they have that spring-fresh feel and scent?"

"I'd seen a box of "spring fresh" dryer sheets in the laundry room," he said with a big grin as he helped her hang up the last sheet, no longer bothered by droplets of water.

"Funny, Mister James," she said wryly as she finished.

"Didn't I tell you to just call me James without the "mister"?"

"Yes, I recall you have," she answered with a nod and playful smile dancing on her lips. "But can you recall my explaining to you that propriety dictates that I address you respectfully in your father's house?" Then she bent and swept up the empty laundry basket as she made her way out from behind the billowing sheets.

He caught up with her brisk walk and fell in step, walking side-by-side with her. "Yea, reckon I understood you in the beginning, but you've been here now three days. I reckon it'd be aw'right to be less formal now."

"Well established decorum knows no time limits, Mister James. You don't expect the others employed by your father to be as informal, do you? After all, they've been here far longer than I."

"You don't seriously think you're just one o' the ranch hands, do you?"

"No, of course not. But I am paid staff, Mister James."

"Naw. You're different."

"Aside from my gender, in what way am I different from the others?"

James shrugged. "You just are."

She smiled and shook her head. "It's very kind of you, and it's appreciated."

"I'm not just sayin' it just to be kind, Isabella," he said with a slight frown.

"I know, Mister James, but I also know my place here at Barrington Ranch and in your father's house. Aside from my gender, I'm no different than any other hired person here and I would truly appreciate it if you could accept that."